Doctor Who and The Great Eclipse: Part 26/34

[gm_andy]

A/N: This chapter features some added hints as to the eventual direction that River's healing will take her. It's complicated and interwoven with her eventual role in later stories. She is well aware of the sexual overtones but neither her nor the Doctor intend to go that way any time soon. (Yes, she might end up being River Song, in a regeneration or thirteen. :-P ). Also this chapter starts the mad dash to Verity. PS. I love how this picture turned out.



Motility

He was used to being in motion. Never stopping. Never looking back. Always moving, forward like an obsession. He knew that someday it would catch up to him. His past, so very painful in so many ways, had to. Now it seemed as though someone or something had realized the fact that he spent all his time running and had decided for him to make him stop, to make him face his past, starting with the remainder of his beloved grand-daughter, Susan. That was, her descendants. He'd come to terms with the fact that she had in fact set down roots and created a triple trunked tree through time in the form of her sons with David. And she had passed on to them the same mutations he carried still. Her genes seeded humanity with the mutation he gained from it. The entire works smacked of a paradox, one that stated he was his own distant (like fifty-great grand, or something) ancestor. Made his head ache to think of it. And yet... it was so obscure and so big, that he doubted anyone ever would have noticed it happening. Hell he wasn't even sure of it.

The outcome of the skiff burning, thanks to William J. Johns and his flashbacks, was that he was even more stuck and more stationary then he'd been before. The simple fact was they were all in grave danger. He hated being locked away from his ship. He despised being cooped up in this too small space because of darkness. And he hated that there were moments when he wanted to just march out into the downpour, alone, and get back to space and time. He'd never left people in such danger when he might save a few, however. Just because he was responsible for the end of the Time War didn't mean he could afford to start that behavior now. So he stayed.

The entire sense that over took them all was one of mixed expectation and resigned fear. Humans could drive him mad with how simple and reactive they could be sometimes. Making the sort of run they would be forced to endure would require them being well fed, rested, and healthy. Not that any of the others paid much attention to this unless he held their hands. The Doctor found himself forcing people to eat, to sleep, to make preparations that in some cases they didn't want to do. This meant going in and lying down to force the others to sleep, cooking to make them eat, driving some of them like a slave master at times to make them work, and trying to not lose his temper or his hormonal control in the process. Both of which were proving to be harder tasks than he ever imagined they would be. Without Richard being there he would have had his hands around Johns' throat within a day. With Richard there he'd be damn lucky to not turn and slam the man against whatever surface was convent at the time to ravage him... One relied on being defused. The other relied on self control and dread.

Paris and Johns both seemed to be the most difficult of individuals, often tossing back to him that it was his fault that they were caught here, that he could have told them what the box was and forced them to try harder to collect it long before this point. Paris he ignored. He didn't give a flying fuck about the prissy little self-centered ape, and told the man as much. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he didn't like the fellow.

William, however, he kept coming back to. Most likely it was because Richard kept stepping in and defending the redhead, even when the man clearly didn't need defending. Since the Doctor couldn't find it in himself to be pissed off at the ex-ranger over his actions he kept trying to figure out what it was about the merc that Amadak thought was worth protecting. This led to him butting heads against the marshal even more often, all because if he was to have any hope of understanding his Bonded's attachment to Johns he had to allow the fellow's attitude to affect him. Which meant that most days it grated against his raw ire until he nearly exploded in ways that were most un-Time Lord like.

Honestly, if Richard hadn't been there to run interference he would have killed the shit in the most slow, painful, agonizing way he could think of (and he had a rather strong imagination along those lines this time around too), just because. He supposed that it was his fault that he didn't just stop caring. Not paying the fellow any attention would have effectively defused the entire situation from the start. Only.. the Ape was not a stupid one and he could see that the man had such great potential if he only applied himself in the proper direction. He wasn't an evil man, just a very annoying one.

Johns might have been high most of the time, but that didn't mean he couldn't see the fact that he was needling the pale gent or that Richard seemed to exert some control over the fellow. And that galled the Doctor too. It was none of the merc's business if he listened to the ex-ranger or not, or what they might get up to while the others slept, or not, for that matter. The long term closed quarters and enforced abstinence from his ship made him very short tempered. And Johns knew which buttons to press. Once he found one he would press it over and over until he got a reaction then act befuddled until the anger blew over then proceed to repeat his action.

Richard attempted, once or twice, to talk some reason into the stubborn redhead about what he was doing, trying to make him understand that this was not a game and that the Doctor was not someone to piss off if one wanted to live though the coming gauntlet. Considering that it was the merc's stupid jumping the gun on the Skiff that ended them up in this mess it was remarkable that the pale inhuman male had not just pounded Johns into the floor already. But Billy was damn determined to be Billy, and would not listen.

It was then all that Richard could do to keep the Doctor off the merc's throat and he found himself trying anything he could think of to keep the other man distracted from what Johns was doing. This involved a lot of conversations that bordered on flirts, the heavy use of Doc/Bob lines, the unexpected appearance of tea, touches in perhaps innocent fashion that didn't feel so innocent at all, and much standing guard and glowering at Billy to keep him away when the Doctor was just about ready to snap and hadn't managed to keep a grip on his temper. The actions he was taking didn't fail to be seen however. Carolyn, Simon, and Abu all attempted to assist.

Young Doc Tam also tried to run interference, going so far as to offer the merc help not only for the morphine addiction but for the flashbacks as well. The subject of flashbacks proved to be a mite touchy though. Although Simon had a point telling Johns that the flashbacks responsible for his actions with the skiff were triggered by the rain the merc refused to listen. He likely knew already that the morphine had no small part in it too. And Johns also was aware that he was not helping himself by clinging to his addiction when there was help being offered. But again he rebuffed Simon's offer.

Most of the others tried to stay out of the way. Fry was the exception, going the completely opposite direction, reaming Johns in the Doctor's stead, verbally lashing the man until he sulked away, feeling like a beaten puppy. And if it occurred to any of them that perhaps it was this attention that Johns was after in the first place they might have avoided all the tension altogether. Only Bill refused to come out and be civil and ask Carolyn to spend some time with him, instead being a juvenile ass about the entire thing and thinking that the only attention he was ever going to get was the negative sort.

When Johns thought about it all he realized he was being stupid. In those few dim moments of clarity he realized that if he wanted Fry he'd have to shape his act up and become a decent person. He'd swear that this day would be different. He'd change. And then - he wouldn't. But it was his anger that made him keep on. Because if he was going to have to die, morphine was a far more pleasant way to go. Damn it all, every gorram time he considered the easy route out of this he remembered that smiling image of Carolyn and all those kids on that dusty planet, and couldn't force himself to do it. He wanted that life, or a chance at it, but had not idea about how to get from where he was to where he desperately wanted to be.

The priest was ignored by Johns, although the Doctor did let the man know that the attempts were something he was grateful for. Imam then switched his attempts from Johns directly to acting to alert the Doctor when Johns was heading his way and trying to provide the man with an escape route when possible. Aside from this, Imam and the pilgrims spent much time searching their hearts and their faith for answers that seemed to elude them. Ali alone felt as though there was nothing to lose by the attempt, but then, he'd been snatched from the claws of death and has no idea that she was still hovering over them, waiting for some careless mistake to take advantage of.

River focused on sewing. She did not look at the strands of time, avoiding what she knew hovered on the edge of her awareness. She helped the Doctor with maths, block transfer equations, while he was working on them, sometimes holding one strand of the shimmering line while he wove the rest of the new space around it, sometimes building the space herself while he kept track of the various lines and made sure nothing unraveled in the process.

She continued to climb into the Doctor's bed when they rested. This was nightly now. If this bothered her brother he chose to say nothing. If it bothered Richard, he kept it to himself choosing instead to include her in his protective sphere. She knew there were times it bothered the Doctor himself, times when his body or hers reacted to something that neither of them could control. But she would not deny that she needed him to help her, to hold her mind away from the anger and the tension that the others felt. It was easier on them both when they were in physical contact. Being in his bed eased the strain of his filtering her perceptions for him. It was the one time of the day that she knew he was not in pain from his effort to help her. And since it helped him, she was not going to stop doing it.

It was the night before they were to leave, and she was curled up against him, his cool body still a balm to her, even though the temperature was no longer so hot as it once was. She was wearing a sleeping gown. Like most nights he wore a tee and long pajama bottoms. One of his arms was under her, curled around her back. A slight shift down and she'd be tucked under his arm. Some nights that bothered him more than other nights. This night he smelled slightly more spicy then normal. She decided that she quite liked it.

There had never been a point where she felt strange with her need to touch him. To hold him. Right now she was pressed in as close to him as she could get, one leg extended the length of his, her toes pointed so the even the top of her foot rested against him. Her arms were hugging him, and she felt no concern over his slight weight cutting off circulation. He was a big man, but thin enough, built to run, and fairly light as those things went. Normally he laid flat on his back, still and relaxed. She wiggled slightly and let her leg bend over him. There were places where her body became so hot that it was uncomfortable. The cool of his leg seemed to soak that warmth away, leaving tingles behind.

She heard him sigh slightly. This bordered on the edge of what they knew was tolerated. There were times when errant thoughts flitted through her brain and she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her there. She usually tried to clamp down on those thoughts. Then there were the whispers that sometimes tickled her, and she knew he was thinking about Richard the same way. Her cheeks flamed and she buried her face into his side. The musical flow of his mind started then, distracting her from the wayward fantasies for now. Although this night the lesson he was teaching her was related to how she was feeling. She knew that it wasn't exactly sleep she was doing now, but rather something else, like some form of super fast learning, mind to mind, while the body was at repose. The concepts of Bonding, the theory and the hormonal needs behind it, the changes she was feeling in her body, how she was reacting to his pheromones, his short temper, all of it became part of the lesson for the night. He tried to make it clinical, teaching her biology, archeology, ancient history, chemistry, among other things. None of it lessened how she was reacting to him. Not even his telling her that she was on the brink of forging psychic ties with him that would never break.

Part of her wanted that so bad that she ached for it. There were so many reasons she wanted it too. Not just physical ones. Maybe not physical ones at all. So many mental reasons. He protected her mind. He taught her. He guided her and uplifted her. He accepted that she was not human but still saw her a normal, no matter how broken she was. And she loved him. Had done since his very first smile. The Doctor was so smart and had libraries of information stored in his brain. This was what he shared with her while the others slept. He was what she needed to heal, the only one that could. And some small part of him needed her desperately.

Normally he did not shift his body in rest. But now he turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her small form and pulling her close, tucking her under his chin, his legs tangling in hers. She was young, so young. And damaged so horribly that he wanted to weep. But she was as close to someone of his race he was likely to ever find and sometimes it all was too much when she expressed such complete total devotion to him. Her body stayed relaxed even as her mind carefully questioned his movement. His mind was open before her the power of his aura swirling about on the edges of it, but the actual mental landscape exposed below her. All that he was. She could be part of it. Forever. This was someplace that Simon could not, would not, ever follow. Already she was his Tyro. Now he offered her - more. So much more. She was young, yes. But she was also so very old. His mind called to hers and it felt so right to be here. The filtering would be easier for Verity if they connected in this way. Her physical presence would become and remain totally natural. She skimmed over his mind, locating the taunt connection to his Amadak and spreading herself over it for a moment.

Awareness of something cold and hard against her hip intruded into her mind, her body telling her that this mental touch caused a definite physical reaction that was sudden to the extreme. She eased back slightly, only to find his large hands on her bum gently urging her back against him and her heat needing the cool of him to ease it away. She opened her eyes and tilted her head to look up at his face. His intense gaze focused on her, his eyes deeply colored with the emotions he didn't often show. There was no intention on his part of this going any farther. He just needed her to not be scared and she wasn't. She nuzzled into him and opened her own mind, spreading out across his like a sheen of water. He soaked her in, dry for her moisture. That his body wanted more was something he could ignore. That her body understood and responded was all good and well, but her mind was not ready for what her body might someday want, and they both knew it. She wanted to be held, to feel the stirrings of her flesh but not feel pressured to act on it. As long as she was not scared of his echoing reaction he could give her all the time she needed. Their minds flowed back into teacher and student, focused on what the biology and chemistry of this new experience was and she allowed herself to feel it and understand it.

Rain-filled, cold, dark days had passed. Various tasks completed now, ranging from glowing clothes, to the best weapons they could find or make, from packing rations for the trip and selecting lights to saying their prayers and mustering up their courage... The Time was at hand. It was as if they all woke up mutually determined that this day would be the day they would attempt to reach the Doctor's ship, or die so that the others could. They ate, they used the facilities, they washed carefully and made sure there were no exposed injuries. It was all rather calm and meditative, becoming more surreal the closer they got to the deadline, to the point of no return...

River brought out the carefully constructed glowing items, each with plenty of lead. The optic cables were attached to the generator, and it with a spare battery, was placed into Jack's backpack. The boy watched it all, focused on River, Simon, and the Doctor as they helped each of the others into their outerwear. Golden light flickered over some of them, but River's was tainted with a horrible sludge. It wasn't death, but something else. Something scary. He blinked and the almost living dark energy was gone. But he knew what he'd seen and was frightened by it. Around him others were making the final selections of lights, weapons, gear, rations and water. He had his pack, a glowing sweater that fit over a coat that might keep him a bit dry, a spear, and his cap. In addition to the light generator he and Ali had been able to salvage their favorite toys, picking just a couple and telling themselves that they were doing it so that the original owners would leave this hellhole with them, in spirit at least.

Each of them figured out some way to rig a bag with gear, adding extra light to them, even if it meant poking holes and stringing LED bulbs, but none took it as far as the art dealer did. Paris looked like a Christmas Tree. He’d added LED bulbs to his hat and his bag. The fiber optics sewn into his sweater hadn’t been enough to reassure him, so he carried additional LED’s strung around his breather. He was downright colorful. Most of the rest of them figured the fiber optics and a hand lamp was enough. Johns had almost gone the opposite way, nearly refusing the glowing top or the use of salvaged bulbs on his pack. But then he looked at the others and noticed that every one of them was using the fiber optics, even the Doctor, who had woven a loose vest to slip on over his leather coat. In the end, the merc put on the garish glowing outerwear.

They would have indulged in one final meal, only none of them wanted to delay. If anything they all felt a sense that they needed to do it now or not try it at all. So now it would be. The last of the overhead lights those around the eating area where they spent most of their time getting ready came down. The kid, Jack, needed to be in the middle of the group, as they were all connected to the pack he wore. Each of them had plenty of lead, coiled around arms, wrapped around bodies, or what have you. Riddick and the Doctor were up front, Ali and Jack were in the middle, and the rest of them formed a barrier around the children. Johns choose the back; Paris would likely end up falling behind and into a rear position although currently he was near the side. “Let’s stay together. We all have light, food, and water. It’s not far, for our first goal. To the Coring Room,” Carolyn rallied.

The inner doors were opened just enough to slip through. “How’s it look?” Johns asked from the back.

Clear? Maybe. There were rents in the main door, water pooling on the floor, Riddick put up a hand and scanned the darkness. “Looks clear,” he murmured, unsure. He glanced over at the Time Lord. The Doctor put up a short burst of noise from his gadget and flushed out a small flock of razor winged hatchlings that swooped through the inner doors with an eerie clicking screech.

Behind him the entire group, sans Johns, ducked out of the way as the squealing mass swooped past them on it’s way to roost in the rafters. Spears clattered away from them as Johns fired off the shotgun into the mass before dodging out of the way, “Fuck! Thought you said, ‘clear’!”

“Said, ‘Looks clear,’ -- actually.” Richard replied.

Fry cut in; “Can we just get the door open?” She paused to flip on the spotlight on wheels that had been constructed with the converter, a power cell and the skiff’s headlights. Outside the hammerheads wailed in protest at the return of the hated fire as the light filtered through the slashed door.

The con hit the switch and the spring released the latch. Then he stepped up to the door and gave it a mighty shove sending it up into the overhead track. Outside the rain was coming down in sheets. “I hope the spotlight doesn’t short out,” said Paris.

“The connections are covered. It should be fine.” Carolyn reassured, “Come on, we’re just burning light here and the creatures are already behind us so there’s no going back now.”

Imam said, “Remember, stay together. Keep your lead short enough so that it does not tangle. Together we can survive this. God will see us through.” And with that they set off into the wet maze of the settlement heading for the coring room.

River found herself between brown and white, Jack and Simon. Her mind was tightly muffled, thanks to both her brother and the Doctor. While she was aware of the creatures and the emotions of the others running strong she didn’t experience them in such a way that they drove her. Greenish copper, Hassan, walked in front of her, rather pushing toward the more metallic earth, Rich. He seemed unafraid, excited and hyper alert perhaps, but not scared. Fear would serve him better. Just behind her was ruddy bright orange, Paris, attempting to gain more safety by staying within the glow cast by others as if he had no light of his own. He had fear plenty. More than enough for everyone, not that it would do him any good if it turned into panic. The art dealer’s lead ran through her and Simon. The Doctor had insisted that if something threatened the light, they were to do whatever was necessary to keep the others safe. She tried not to think about what that request meant.

On the other side of the dirt brown was more emerald green, Ali. The boy was pissing scared; his colors pulsing and near neon bright. It was like he was trying to make his aura visible in an effort to gain more protection. He wouldn’t panic though, not with his older brothers there to make him look the fool if he did. The jade green of Suleiman walked behind and to the outer edge, between the boys and the smoky bluish soot of the docking pilot. In front of Carolyn were the tropical sky tones of Imam, who walked next to Hassan, trying to get the boy to hold back. And behind them all was Red. The marshal made her skin crawl, like her physical body wanted to get away from him in layers that she cannot control totally. The buildings here were skeletons, the siding being stripped away, posts and beams that reached into the inky, rainy sky. She could see them because the metal floors reflected the faint light differently than the wet mud they were splashing through as they walked, not quite in time with one another but very careful to maintain the spacing between them. Just on the edge of their mass glow the shadows moved, frothing in sheer numbers of predators that waited for any misstep. She’d put on long cargo style pants and a heavier sweater under the glowing one, but the rain and the chill made her shiver.

She felt a small hand grab her own. The green eyes belonging to Jack met hers as she glanced that way and smiled at the child. River curled her hand tighter around the smaller one as she tried to give the youth enough strength to keep going. They were both wet and chilled to the bone already. The group passed this way and that way, turning seemingly at random to go down muddy lanes that had been stripped of crates. After what might have been an hour or five minutes the buildings started to look more like buildings, and less like metal bones. Ahead of them Riddick held up a hand. There was a wall of sound, wails and clicks and bones smashing against each other up ahead of them. The pause lengthened before he motioned them into one of the more complete buildings. Together they pushed through the door, light filling the smallish room. “There’s a massive monster fight going on in the lane ahead of us,” Rich relayed. “I don’t think the Doctor’s sonic thing-a-bob is going to do more than rile them up. We need another way through. Perhaps between building walls?”

“You mean cut a path?” Fry asked.

“Either that or make a mass run for it, in hope that we scatter them and that they don’t attack us.”

“Well, I vote for burn,” Paris piped up. “How many buildings away are we?”

The Doctor said, “Five.” He had been short tempered for almost a week, and not even Richard could ease him anymore. But soon he'd be back with his ship and things would almost go back to some sort of normal. Only he had no idea what normal was, having never really had any before.

That’s twelve or so cuts, but better than making a long run and hoping that they don’t slip in the mud. Slowly everyone came to the same conclusion. Fry handed over the torch from her bag. Riddick slipped out of his fiber optic top and tucked it into Jack’s pack. “Here’s the plan, We’ll cut a hole, I’ll go through and scan ahead, then the Doctor will come through and give ‘em a burst of noise. If the room is clear then you will come through. Guard each other’s leads, and don’t separate.” They trust his judgment and his skill. Even Red, River noticed. The merc didn’t protest the plan and offered to do the cutting. He handed his gun to Fry, who handed the spotlight off to Imam.

The first cut opened into sheeting rain. Although the next wall was just fifteen centimeters past that, they were nearly overwhelmed by the increase in the howling eerie noise and fighting that they heard echoing through the wet night. The metal removed from the wall was turned and bent before being hoisted up above head level and being allowed to spring back open, wedging itself into a cover that Johns stood under while making the opening. He was bathed in bright illumination from the headlight lamp as he made the next cut. As the merc stepped back into the room to allow Riddick through, he slipped off his own fiber optic top and handed it to Hassan with the request that it be tucked into Jack’s pack. He then turned off the torch, switching the tool back for his gun. Fry motioned to Imam to keep the spotlight for the time being.

Moving from one building to another happened after Riddick and the Doctor ensured that there was a measure of safety. The next space was long and narrow, with their entry being someplace near the middle. There were a series of doors along the far wall; perhaps this was the office for the bulk of the geologists? Pausing, the group studied the situation. They needed to go across this building to get to their goal, but something was not completely safe here. They feel it in their bones. The sound of rain pelting the metal roof drowns out most every other sound.

Off to the right there was a sudden metallic clatter. Nearly every light they have was turned that direction. A file cabinet had fallen, or was tipped over, papers and thin drawers making quite a mess on the far end of the floor. There was no sign of current movement however. Fry put a hand on one knob and found it locked, “Which way?”

“We should try to find an open door, save the torch for when we need it,” Imam prompted.

They began checking doors and moving toward the downed cabinet. A clicking screech from behind them froze the survivors in their tracks. Almost as a single unit they whipped their lights around the other way to find only more empty hall, but about halfway to the end of the building was a darkness that indicated an open door. They all looked at each other each thinking the same thing, 'How the fuck could one get in here?'

“Could’ve come in through a window? I dunno,” said the docking pilot.

“Why don’t you check it out, Johns?” Riddick suggested.

The snapping wail repeated itself. It became rather clear that the majority of the group agreed with the con. They expected him to check it out. Paris finally said, “Come on, Johns. You got the big gun.”

The redhead countered, “I'd rather piss glass. Why don’t you fucking check?”

“He’s right, you know,” said Simon.

“Wanna rag your fat mouth?” Johns fired back as he turned on the Tam scion. From inside the open room there was the sound of metallic furniture being toppled and more screeching.

“Might be the only open door,” Riddick pointed out.

Johns clenched his jaw, took a hit on his breather, turned away from his raven-haired target, and slowly crossed the distance to the darkened doorway. He flattened his back against the wall and thrust his shotgun around the corner. The gun went off. Something inside the room squealed but the popping-filled keening stopped. Crouching low, the merc eased his head and light around the door and saw that there were blown-apart hatchlings on the floor, making a blue stain on the scattered papers from the toppled file cabinets. He let out a breath and pointed his gun up into the air. “Okay. We're okay. Just some small ones that musta -- ” he started to call back to the others. The thought was never finished, as something scythe-like made a fast and powerful swipe at his head. This drove him back and down. The swing and Johns’ surprise conspired to discharge his gun again. The blast illuminated something pale, with a huge tooth-filled mouth set under a bony ridge crest that gave them all the overall impression of a dagger-filled diamond. He half scampered and half crab-walked back to the group, “Find another door.”

As it happened, Olgivie found himself near the outer portal. His first and only thought was to put distance between himself and the huge monster that was in front of them, “Not staying in here another....” as he lunged for the lever on said door, intent on fleeing into the rain filled darkness beyond.

Fry grabbed his arm, spun him with his own momentum, and slammed him into the wall, “Christ, you don't know what's out there!”

“But I do know what's in here!” he protested.

Meanwhile the Doctor had turned his sonic screwdriver to one of the inner doors and it clicked open. Riddick peeked in and gave a nod. The holy man said, “Everybody come, this way and we should be safe. Hurry, please....” Imam ushered them through into the smallish supply closet and once all twelve were inside he closed and relocked the door.

“Now we’re trapped in a much smaller space. I hate this!” Paris nearly screamed.

Fry and Johns switched torch for gun again. “Just hang on, Paris. We’re still moving. Calm down,” the blond said. Johns struggled to get the cutter lit, and a scratching started on the metal door before spreading to the surrounding wall. “Move the shelving!” Fry ordered as she started trying to block the door and wall. Rich, Simon, the Doctor, Hassan, Suleiman, and Imam all began helping her as Johns focused on cutting the far wall. River tried to keep Jack and Ali out of the way while keeping the others from tangling up their leads. Paris cowered back with the two boys, perfectly content to hide behind River. They saw the predator’s scythe-like talons poking and working around the door jam, like it was trying to make perforations in the metal so that the door will give way. The sudden driving bonging blow to the door was strong enough to make the shelving slide against the floor. “Johns! Hurry!” Fry threw her weight into pushing the shelving back to buy them more time. Hassan and Suleiman copied her.

One wall gave way to the torch, revealing rain falling in large fast drops. It was like walking into a waterfall almost, the volume of rain that was pouring down was so great. Johns took a breath and prayed that the water wouldn’t make the torch cut out before calling, “Spot me?” Paris blinked, darted over to the abandoned device and aimed the spotlight at the marshal’s back. “Thanks.” The redhead set to work on the second wall. He kicked the hole open before he fully competed the cut. He reached back, grabbed the spotlight and pushed it through. There were no noises to indicate that the creatures were in this building. “Come on, let’s go!” Johns wheeled the spotlight along side himself as he rushed through what was a dorm. The marshal set the cutter to work on the next wall before the others were even all the way through.

River shepherded Jack and Ali with the art dealer right on her heels, through the downpour and into the next chamber. The others quickly followed as one of the shelves toppled from the banging, and the claws began ripping into the wall in earnest next to the door. Once again, the group muscled what ever they found, in this case a missed dresser, over the gap in the wall. It won’t hold for long. “Go, go!” Fry urged.

“Keep moving!”

The next three buildings passed in a rushed haze, Johns cutting constantly, the others trying to get enough of the gap blocked to buy time to get to the next room while keeping the children safe and in the middle of the group. It seemed, though; that no sooner than they would get one passage cut that the persistent hammerheads would get the gap behind them cleared.

But the next wall Johns opened lead to a large shelf filled room, with the shelves being ‘V’ shaped and containing long mineral core samples. “Hold!” Riddick called, to keep Johns from rushing forward to the next wall. They reached the Coring Room without being totally aware of it and were now in one of the storage rooms off of it. “Try to get that blocked up!” The spotlight didn’t illuminate this large chamber enough to ensure that they were alone here. With the roof being gone in the main room large predators might be roosting in the rafters. There were loads of small metal crates, weighed down with mineral samples, which could be stacked against the hole. The group began hastily doing just that, while the Doctor directed the redhead to tack them in place by altering the heat of the torch and handing him a spool of solder. But Johns gave him a blank look prompting Abu to take the torch and welding material from them and start doing as the Time Lord suggested.

“You can’t weld?” The Doctor asked William.

“I can. Just - I failed the test on it, is all.”

“So, you can’t weld.”

“Not that I trust, no,” the merc admitted.